It’s Not Really Drunk Blogging

The story of my life has a set number of chapters but I have yet to discover whether I am close enough to the end to be wary so I choose to believe there is time to talk about tomorrow.

Gave myself a healthy dose of Scotch and am playing around with sucking down some more because some nights are made for unleashing and letting go.

Donnie Mac asks what can this be, can you tell me and I answer him but not on this page. Maybe I ought to, maybe Hey Tomorrow is the way in which to sing it out or maybe Jim can sing Time In A Bottle.

Two hours ago I wandered over to my newish, favorite Shawarma place and brought it back for dinner. Looked around at middle eastern men with dark beards and realized the guy speaking Arabic to me hadn’t figured out I come from the other side of the family.

Got the dark beard and am dressed not so differently than they are, but wonder what sort of reaction I would get if I voiced my opinion on certain matters.

Excuse me while I grab some more because there are moments like now where I figure if I am going to play with fire I might as well jump in and dance until I can’t stand it any more and then do it some more.

Fall Down The Stairs & Get Back Up

I am old enough to come from another generation of men who have been raised to be the proverbial strong silent type.

My earliest memories remind me that if you get hurt you don’t cry, you just shake it off and keep going. Fall down the stairs and you keep going ‘cuz that that is what we do.

Take me some place where there is music and laughter or watch me test the strength of the shackles that bind me. Watch me gently tug upon them and know I am biding my time.

I’ll never tolerate being restrained like this for very long. Put most of my time in and now I am preparing f0r what comes next. Probably won’t take the easy road because it is not my style but I am cool with that.

I know EXACTLY who I am and who I am not.


The drivers in Texas hate when you provide too much space between the car in front of you and your vehicle so they make a point to try and fill in the gaps. It never ceases to amaze me the inherent stupidity in not securing enough room to safely stop if the vehicle in front of you comes up short, but let’s be real, there are lots of Trump supporters here.


I turn on Sirius and Howard Stern is replaying an interview I have already heard three times so I flip through the stations and sing along with Expressway to Your Heart, Never My Love and Crazy Train.

It is kind of a strange mix but lately I have trouble focusing on some things so I end up flipping stations with greater frequency than normal.

Zeppelin shows up and Immigrant Song comes on and I play grumpy old man thinking about how many people believe it was written for Thor.

Alone for a little bit longer in the car I think some more about the importance of spending time with the people you want to spend time with.

There are some who I would spend far less time with and some who I would spend far more with but the decision is not mine alone. Life is funny that way, filled with inconsistencies and strange moments.

Cue music.

Watching & Waiting

Not so long ago the person sitting next to me on a plane saw this song playing and asked me if I had a story to go with the song. I nodded and said “don’t we all.”

She asked me if that was a good thing and I said if you haven’t felt like you have touched heaven or had your heart run through a meat grinder you haven’t lived much of a life.

“That is a pretty graphic way of putting it.”

“I suppose.”

“Where is yours now? Heaven or meat grinder?”

“In between.”

“I hope your closer to heaven than the meat grinder.”

“Me too.”

“You ought to tell them what you think. Life is too short.”

“Did you tell yours?”


“How’d that work out for you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t be one of those guys that doesn’t speak. Strong and silent only works in the movies. Tell her.”

“I hired a sky writer to make it clear and then the plane crashed into hangar of the skywriting company. Killed everyone in it and I never did get my money back.”

She giggled and said she hoped I was exaggerating.

“Who me? I would never tell a story that wasn’t 69% truth with a dash of hyperbole to spice it up.”

“I get the feeling you made someone crazy.”

“Maybe, but who knows if it is crazy in a good way. Hell, I like to say they were crazy before I got to them. Let me take credit for the good and let the bad go to someone else.”

We bantered back and forth and she wished me luck. I wished her the same and said I was watching and waiting for a while.

“What’cha watching and waiting for?”

“The winning lotto numbers.”

She laughed again and got serious–“don’t wait too long, speak your mind.”

Age Is a Number

The boys and I keep going back and forth about our upcoming birthdays.

We talk about the stupid stuff we did for 21, blow past 25 and mention 30 and 40 as having sounded much older than they are.

Fifty sounds different to us and though in many ways it is nothing special we laugh about how we can all talk about medical procedures. I had surgery for a double hernia, this guy had his shoulder repaired, so and so  is taking heart medication and rumor has it Jackie T. has Ulcerative Colitis.

Gathered around the table I look at the guys and say Viagra used to be a joke and everyone laughs but before anyone can answer one of the guys says he tried Rogaine.

“You know Josh, it is too late for you. You have to take it early on or it doesn’t work.”

I smile and tell him I don’t care because I never worry about bad hair days.

It is 99% true, I don’t care, except for every once in a while where I wonder if hair would make me look younger.

And then I stare at the mirror and decide what I really care about is getting rid of these mystery aches and pains. “Maybe it is time to take up Yoga and stretch more.”

The reflection doesn’t answer instead he half sings, half mumbles along with Lynrd Skynrd to be a Simple Man.

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